The Loyal Betrayal
Tenebrarum took another step forward.
No words, no sound came from the mask—just the low rustle of his cloak brushing against the marble floor, the cold gleam of his mask tilted just enough to catch the sunlight in a pale flash.
Aurelia didn't flinch.
Not visibly.
But she felt it—like ice sliding down her spine, the impossible pressure of his presence drawing closer. Her breath caught in her throat as he stopped just inches away. So close she could feel the faint pull of air with each of his exhalations. So close she could see the way the black metal fused seamlessly into the bone-like ivory of his mask.
She did not lower her eyes.
Even though everything in her warned her to.
Then, quietly, like a blade drawn from a silk sheath, he said, "You shouldn't wear things that make men look at you."
His voice was low and unnervingly calm, laced with something she couldn't name—possessiveness, perhaps, or disdain. Or something older.
"Why? You chose it yourself," she asked, attempting to keep her voice as respectful as possible.
Before she could stop herself from making a mistake...talking too much, I would say.
The single word hung between them like a suspended strike.
He tilted his head, almost curious.
"Because you are nothing! And it displeases me when you forget that."
She tried to speak—to say something sharp, anything—but footsteps interrupted them.
"My lord."
Julius's voice cut cleanly through the air.
Aurelia turned.
He stood a few paces behind them, bowing gracefully.
His expression was carved in politeness, but his eyes—his eyes were anything but.
Hatred. Jealousy. Grief.
Julius's gaze remained fixed on Tenebrarum, though the tension in his jaw was a telltale sign of the storm that raged beneath his calm facade.
"The carriages are prepared," he stated, his voice steady. "Yours and one for the lady."
Tenebrarum didn't spare a glance, his attention locked onto Aurelia, a figure of quiet beauty standing in the hall's muted light.
"Why are there two?" he inquired, his tone flat as a winter's day.
Julius straightened, the weight of his lord's authority pressing down. "That was your arrangement, my lord."
A charged pause hung in the air before Tenebrarum made his move—his gloved hand reaching out slowly, deliberately, to brush a stray lock of hair from Aurelia's face.
She froze, not from discomfort, but from the unexpected softness of the gesture. It felt dangerously disarming, so out of character for him.
"She rides with me now," he declared, a command rather than a suggestion.
Julius stiffened, a flicker of rebellion igniting within him. But with a resigned bow, he murmured, "As you wish , my lord." He turned swiftly, but not before Aurelia glimpsed the flash of betrayal in his eyes—his anger simmering beneath a facade of control.
He loathed Tenebrarum, and his obsession for her ignited like a wildfire in the night.
---
Tenebrarum stood rooted as if his very presence could compel Aurelia forward. His mask glistened faintly in the pale morning light, a blank canvas that somehow felt full of watchful intent.
Her heart thundered once, then twice, and finally steadied.
She remained silent as he extended his gloved hand, palm up—expectant and tranquil. She hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment, before placing her trembling fingers into his.
Together, they traversed the remaining distance of the hall toward the grand entrance, the hem of her gown whispering against the polished floor like mist pooling in a desolate cathedral.
Outside, the wind bit sharply, a reminder of the harshness of the world beyond.
Two carriages awaited them, starkly contrasting. One for her, adorned with soft blue cushions and lace-draped windows, was intended to cradle her in comfort. The other—a dark, ominous vehicle—was reserved for him.
Yet, Tenebrarum led her to the jet black carriage, his grip on her hand firm and unyielding.
A cold flutter twisted in her stomach, tinged with a sense of foreboding.
Julius stood near the second carriage, hands clasped behind his back, chin lifted in a silent show of restraint. Yet she caught the slight twitch in his jaw and the way his eyes locked onto her, filled with an emotion that felt like a sacred thing being handed to a monster.
Tenebrarum noticed Julius's gaze, his head shifting slightly. He saw the raw emotions burning within the young man—bitterness, pain, and a desperate kind of love—but chose to remain silent. He trusted Julius implicitly.
With a single, dismissive nod, he pushed the moment aside as if the torrent of feeling meant nothing at all. To him, loyalty was unbreakable; betrayal could never emerge from within his own walls. He failed to see how deeply Julius's loyalty was bleeding.
---
With a decisive motion, Tenebrarum opened the carriage door her.
Aurelia hesitated for only a heartbeat before stepping inside, her mind clouded with thoughts she couldn't bear to explore.
The door closed behind her with a soft yet profound finality, sealing her inside.
She perched near the window, her spine straight, fingers clenched in her lap, an anchor in a swirling sea of confusion.
Tenebrarum entered after her, settling beside her, not across the space. The cushions yielded slightly under their combined weight, leaving an unsettling silence thick with unspoken tension between them.
---
Back on the estate steps, Julius stood like a sentinel, eyes fixed on the disappearing carriage, refusing to blink. The snow swirled down more fiercely now, each flake shimmering before it landed softly on the back of his glove, melting away and vanishing without a trace.
His expression remained impassive, but within him, something cold and jagged was taking root. Something that, unlike the snow, would not dissolve.
Julius felt a fierce determination to hold onto her, a resolve that surged within him.
He needed a strategy—an ingenious plan ,something big...
One that would pave his way to the palace.
He was going to do anything to see Aurelia again.
Even if it meant to destroy the relationship he has with Tenebrarum.
---
To be continued...